


The Source, of All My Woes

by amandaterasu



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: 5.3 spoilers, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Grief/Mourning, Invasion of Privacy, Memory Loss, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Temporary Amnesia, Voyeurism, what is personal space?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:54:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25950184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amandaterasu/pseuds/amandaterasu
Summary: Her desperate prayer in the Rift called him back to her side. If only he could remember why he belonged there.This fic uses theInteractiveFicsbrowser extension. Please set your substitutions as follows:(Y/N) = Your WOL's Given Name(L/N) = Your WOL's Family Name
Relationships: Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 30
Kudos: 169





	1. The Shoebill

**Author's Note:**

> You knew this was coming. 
> 
> They laid so much goddamn pipe for his return in that patch that we now have a functioning sewer system.
> 
> As always, please comment here or reach out on twitter if you have the chance - I love getting feedback on my writing, and it makes me eager to make more.

_No._

It was the first thought to enter his head, searing him awake. On its heels came a thousand questions, but he batted them aside. Something was wrong - it was not as it should be - and he must remedy it before all else. 

He found the woman easily enough, struggling vainly to free herself in the Rift between worlds. The Rift. Yes. That's what this place was. Someone had sent her here, but it was not where she belonged. As he approached, something bored into his mind -

_\- She lifted one hand to her lips and laughed at his witticism, sunlight gleaming off her hair -_

He shook it away. This woman (and her friends, though he cared little for them) was not where she belonged, and he would make that right. It was a simple thing to follow the aetherial flow back to where she had come from; to hijack the aether of her wish and channel it through a snap and bring her back. 

The warrior was shocked - he seemed familiar, too - but there were more pressing matters. More pressing questions. He would come and fix it if something went wrong, but he had no interest in interfering in their squabble. With a wave, he walked away, allowing his form to fade. He needed a body. Something easy and familiar. Then he could properly think.

* * *

"Damn shoebill!" the old man shouted, and he fluttered away. The bird's body had been easy and familiar, so he had taken it. It was correct. He could fly wherever he needed to go, if he didn't simply teleport, and no one would bother him. No one except -

_\- "Another damn shoebill?" she said, hands on her hips. "Sometimes I think you do it just to mock me." -_

That woman again. Her face lived in his memories. She might have answers, or at least he could silence this nagging worry that ate at his mind; she must have survived her encounter, or he would have gone back and fixed it. Somehow, he was certain that if any harm came to her, he would _know._

Since she was safe, he decided to seek her out. He would watch her. He would take the time to pull the fragments of himself together in peace, without this nagging concern about her condition.

* * *

"Oh, someone is mocking me," she hissed, sitting up in bed. He had perched himself on the wrought-iron railing of her window box and stared into the room. He'd considered flying in, but that felt wrong. Some ancient thing said he must be invited. Another ancient thing scoffed.

_"- my dear," he said, and she closed her eyes. He enjoyed the way the edges of her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks as she blushed._

The woman strode over to the window and glared at him a moment more, before the anger left her eyes and she sighed, slumping down onto the window seat. "It's like the whole world knows I miss him, and has nothing better to do than twist the knife."

He shook his head and shrugged his wings, watching her intensely. His shattered memories came back to him more often around her, which was a good reason to linger beyond the subconscious urge to seek her company. 

"So," she said, eyeing the shoebill. "Do you have some terrible knowledge to impart as well? Are you a nefarious tool of the Ascian? Or are you just a shoebill that has found a convenient perch?"

Ascian.

That word hummed through him, shaking something loose. What was it? What did it mean? What did she mean by -

_\- sat beside a bed, the man on it cold and lifeless. The world had always been on his shoulders, but now, looking at his son's corpse, he felt the weight._

_"Rest assured that every soul in this nation shares your grief, Your Radiance," a voice said from nearby. A lie, though they didn't know it._

To be an Ascian was to grieve. 

Judging by the way her shoulders hunched, he thought she might be an Ascian, too.

* * *

She came and went. 

Sometimes, he would follow. 

Sometimes, he would not.

He learned much of her in those days. This world had been cursed by Light. She had destroyed it, bringing back the darkness and the night sky with the help of her companions. She had many names she answered to - (Y/N), The Warrior of Darkness, The Champion - but no one called her Ascian, despite the way her smiles never reached her eyes.

His favorite times were when she would come sit beside her window and talk to him. He had surmised that she was lonely, but even if she weren't, she did not seem the type to share her burdens with her friends. But she had no such reservations when it came to him, and she told him about her travels around Norvrandt, as well as a place she called the Source.

_"-o forth. Conquer. Rule!" he said, staring up between the branches of the ancient trees into a sky of unending Light. Though he disliked the Light on principle - ever having been a creature of darkness and shadow - the sight still pleased him. Things were going to plan. He would get everything he wanted, in the end. His home, his friends, and -_

He fluffed his wings again and shook his head. That memory had definitely been in the body of a man. He had been in the body of a man, and he had been… 

Happy?

No. Happiness did not factor into it. Eager, Excited. Those were better words. 

He watched her even more closely as she inspected the veritable armory she seemed to carry with her everywhere. Swords and staves, books and cards, each given the same loving attention she offered to everyone and everything except herself. It was strange to him. One cannot pour from an empty cup, and some of that energy should have been reserved for her own care. Yet the attendants that fluttered about her rooms seemed to not notice the unshed tears that clung to her eyelashes.

* * *

"Here you go."

Her words startled him out of his reverie, and to his surprise she held out a large catfish. "You're hungry, right?" she giggled and laid the fish on the table. "Come on in and eat. It's going to rain soon."

Though slightly nervous he was pleased to gain the invitation, and spread his wings, a single beat giving him enough lift to cross the short distance before he settled on the table and devoured the fish. He had not realized how hungry he was until he had swallowed the thing whole, and she seemed delighted. "Well, aren't you starving. Good to know you appreciate my kindness, at least."

Kindness. 

Another word that hung in his mind, and he saw her standing before him, both with the smile she had now, and another her, looking sorrowful.

_"Perhaps a clear and unambiguous act of kindness will serve to win the trust you seem so determined to deny me." It was a voice, his own voice, and he was once again in the body of a man._

_In response, hope filled her eyes. Something about that look made him smile._

He remained on the table as she went about her business of writing letters, and the rain of which she'd warned him began in earnest.

* * *

The rain did not abate, but was soon joined by thunder and lightning, and eventually she sighed. "I really should get some sleep. It's a warm enough night - I'll leave the window open for you, hmm?"

He couldn't reply with words, but he lifted his beak and made a repetitive popping sound he hoped she would interpret as gratitude. The woman just laughed again and turned towards the bed, tugging off her clothing and replacing it with a delicate cotton nightgown that left her shoulders and most of her chest exposed. "Good night, my friend," she called, before climbing into the bed.

To his surprise, she drifted off to sleep quickly, though the rain filled the air with a strange mist that clung lightly to every surface, including her skin. As it shimmered in the guttering candlelight, he imagined reaching out to touch her skin, to brush the moisture away and pull the blanket up around her. But he had imagined a hand - a hand with a glove, though he could not keep the gloves shape fixed in his mind. For a moment it would be black, with long metal claws on his first two fingers and thumb. Then white, with three golden arrows embroidered on the palm. 

"Which is it?" he tried to scream, but his beak was not made for words. Only this strangled clicking sound and a strange croak. 

Still some words must have reached her, because she rolled over in the bed and mumbled, "Emet-Selch."

Something in him broke loose, but it still didn't make sense. He remembered rain, and Light, and her weeping. Thirteen figures in robes and masks, standing around him. And her, the woman, standing before him with tears, real tears, _shed_ tears, streaming down her cheeks when he finally took his mask off.

* * *

Knowing Emet-Selch was one of his names - he was sure there were others, the same way he was sure he was not truly a shoebill - did little to help his situation. He still did not know what it meant to _be_ Emet-Selch. Nor could he ask, with this beak. He could always shuck this shoebill body, take a man's, and investigate, but that would make it harder to stay by her side.

For now, at least, he felt like staying beside her was the most important.

Three days after the storm, she left again while he slept, having roosted between the flowers. She liked the flowers. He liked the way she would smile - the bridge of her nose and the corners of her eyes crinkling - when she caught sight of him among them. 

He was displeased by her absence, and made it known when she returned by stamping his feet on the table and turning his head to fix her with his piercing gaze.

She laughed at him, setting a basket on the table. "Oh, forgive me, Your Radiance," she teased.

He had heard that in a different memory, and tried to piece it together with Emet-Selch, but it didn't fit. He stamped his taloned foot again in frustration, and her laughter redoubled. Then she opened the basket and pulled out another catfish, laying it on a silver platter on the table. With exquisite care she lifted the tray and knelt before him. "I'm sorry I cannot provide a meal _more worthy_ of a descendant of the _great_ Emperor Solus."

Though her tone was one of mockery, the name - Emperor Solus - seemed to pierce him like an arrow. 

_“Were one to study the annals of Garlean history, one would find yonder visage on many a page," the Elezen man said, giving him an unreadable look. “Though by rights its youth should long since have faded.”_

_“Well, well, we have a historian in our midst." He could feel the suppressed chuckle rumbling in his own chest. "That spares me a lengthy explanation. I am Solus zos Galvus, founding father of the Garlean Empire. And, under various guises, the architect of myriad other imperially inclined nations.” He grinned mockingly._

_“As for my true identity," He cast the magics, as familiar as breathing, and revealed the sigil of his office. “I am Emet-Selch. Ascian.”_

She had been there, watching him, just as she was now. Curious. And more than a little irritated.

"I went to all the trouble to get you the damn fish, the least you could do is eat it," she grumbled before returning to tend her armor. "There's been some trouble on the Source, so I'm going to have to tend to that. I might be gone for a bit." 

"The Source." The term chewed on something in his mind, but he was too distracted to consider it with her further declaration that she would be gone.

She selected a set of hard metal and a sword as large as she was, checking both over. "The Garleans are stirring up trouble, and I promised Gaius I'd help with it." 

_Gaius van Baelsar, The Black Wolf._ The thought entered his head, with the image of a man in intricate armor. He shook his head and looked back up at her in time to see she had put on the armor; now she was going through practice forms with the sword, its great weight humming through the air like a song with the perfection of her every motion. She was a warrior born, but he _knew_ that, didn't he?

* * *

It was near on two weeks before she returned, stumbling into the room late at night when he'd just settled into the flower box to sleep. She didn't notice him, but shucked her armor on the way to the bed, dropping her sword to the floor as well, and clutching her pillow tightly to offer it all the tears she never showed others.

Standing up and shaking off the dirt, he flew over to the foot of her bed and perched on it. Tilting his head back, he echoed the same laugh-like call, and she lifted her head to look at him.

"Twelve forefend," she whispered. "I miss him so much I've befriended a random shoebill." The woman rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. "Oh, (Y/N), what have you done?" she mumbled, before pressing the pillow over her face to muffle more of her sobs.

He was forced to accept the truth: she needed more than he could provide as he was. Companionship alone would not suffice, nor would a willingness to save her if she was in mortal peril. She needed someone to sit beside her, to hold her hand, to be _invested._

For all of half a heartbeat, he considered going and finding one of the citizens of this settlement, clacking at them and harrying them with his wings, herding them to her room. But the idea of someone else - _anyone_ else - being closer to her than he was made him simultaneously furious and sick. 

There was nothing for it, it seemed. He'd have to find a body to take for his own.

The prospect was far more difficult than he anticipated, however. He tried a fair few from near every corner of this world - bodies whose souls lingered on the knife's edge between life and death. Once their spirits lost their balance and tipped toward death, he was there; both to ease their passing and to claim their corporeal form. But every host he claimed felt wrong. The face in the mirror would not be right, and his aetherial skin would crawl every time he heard the mis-matched voice.

So he was forced to retreat, to retire, to return to the woman as a shoebill, day after day, night after night, and offer her no comfort save his wordless affection.

* * *

Though he didn't know how, he was not surprised when the woman came in with one last fish, and laid it on the silver platter. "Your Radiance," she said as she presented it to him. "I fear this may be our last meeting."

Tilting his head, he blinked in confusion - did she think there was somewhere she could go that he would not follow her? That she could possibly be free of him before he was whole and himself again?

"The people here on the First don't really need me anymore," she was saying, "and hostilities are coming to a head on the Source. I am the only one who can face the new Emperor of Garlemald."

Garlemald.

He knew that word. It seared into his mind, opening paths and doors and hidden things. He had been the Emperor Solus, like the Elezen man had said, he knew. But that was the Empire of Garlemald.

_"The founding father was an Ascian!" he declared, standing before a throne and looking down at a blond man in full regalia. "And he created the Empire solely for the purpose of sowing the seeds of chaos!"_

With a loud squawk, he flapped his wings indignantly. This was not to be borne. He hated the way his mind was not complete, and she was the glue helping him put it back together. In that instant, he was decided. Step one: follow her to the Source; step two: find a proper body there; step three: go to her side and provide the comfort she needed while he waited for the pieces of who he was to fit again. 

His outburst seemed to have startled her, for she took a step back and put her hand to her chest. "What has gotten _into_ you?" she asked. "You know you can't come with me. Even if I could take a living thing through the Rift, you belong here."

_Idiot woman,_ he thought. _You will learn very quickly that I belong at your side._

* * *

He floated aimlessly in the Rift, staring down at the Source as he searched his memories. He needed a body. Something that fit. Something that felt right. He knew - though he wasn't sure how - that a good vessel waited for him on this world, if only he could remember where it was. 

_Wait…_

Running the thought through his head he felt something snag. He needed a vessel. A _vessel._ His own voice, disembodied, seemed to echo back to him.

_"I really must thank you for this surplus of vessels. I can mold most any host into my own image, but having bodies tailor-made for me in this fashion is so much less tiresome!" The same blond man was there, gritting his teeth in frustration at his words. "You dabbled in Allagan cloning techniques, yes? It certainly is a compelling - not to mention entertaining - field of research."_

_He laughed at the other man. "And of all the options available, you chose the founding father on whom to experiment! You have a twisted streak to you, Varis. Like grandsire, like grandson, eh?"_

His grandson had prepared all the _vessels_ he would need, so he allowed himself to fall into the pull of the world, teleporting in a cloud of shadow to the mark his memory provided.

* * *

Every time he looked down at the gold arrows on the palms of his hands, he smiled. It felt _good_ to be this version of himself again. This body was so familiar, and so much more expressive. Now he could speak to her, demand answers to his questions, and in return give her the emotional comfort she so obviously needed. Yes, this would be the perfect arrangement. 

Another teleport brought him to her location on the Source - a well appointed upstairs bedroom with a breathtaking view that he did not recognize in the slightest. No matter - the important bit was in the bed. 

The woman was curled into a small ball against the cold, bundled in a number of blankets and surrounded by pillows, but she still seemed to shiver despite how she slept. Well. She was going to help him, he was going to help her. And he'd start helping her right now. 

Letting a number of pillows tumble off the bed, he curled around her, pressing her back against his chest as he pulled the blankets up over them both.

Really, this whole thing was a _splendid_ idea.


	2. Just Like That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Y/N) wakes up, and they have conversations about boundaries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who is Emet-loving trash? It's me. I am Emet-loving trash.
> 
> Since this fic is for fun, are there any FFXIV NPCs you want to see him introduced to?

Bright sunlight filled the room when the woman finally began to stir, and the one who knew himself as Solus had to work to suppress a chuckle of excitement. He'd spent the last few hours crafting giddy fantasies of how she might choose to show her appreciation for his companionship; in retrospect, he was forced to admit that he should have expected the screaming.

The woman had rolled over, reaching for him, and her hands came to rest on the medals that adorned his jacket. As her eyes opened, they traveled up from his chest to his face. Then the aforementioned screaming began.

He reflexively clamped a hand down over her mouth and clicked his tongue. "Now, (Y/N), we have much to discuss, you and I. I would so _hate_ to be interrupted. Wouldn't you agree?"

She blinked, and the shock and confusion in her eyes was replaced by razor-edged anger just as sharp pain exploded in his palm where she bit him. He tore his hand back as she rolled away and off the bed coming up onto her feet with a carved stone in her hand. Her aether sang in the air around her, replacing her nightgown with armor before she snapped the gunblade down onto her shoulder. Her voice, when it came, was just as sharp as her glare. "Emet-Selch." 

"That is one name I am known by," he agreed, "though not the only one." 

For a reason he couldn't understand, her cheeks flushed and she looked away as she sheathed her weapon. "I suppose I owe you thanks for saving my life when I faced Elidibus."

_"I played my part to perfection. I had earned my rest. And then, thanks to Lahabrea's crowning act of idiocy, our favorite emissary sees fit to summon me back." He leaned on the throne, staring down at the blonde man from his visions. He felt pity and contempt for the man, and in some distant place, sadness he would not admit to. "Elidibus was ever a worrier. A most tiresome trait, would you not agree?"_

"Who is Lahabrea?" The question had slipped out before he could stop it, and she let out a sudden, incredulous laugh. 

"Lahabrea? Come on, you know Lahabrea better than I ever did." Though she tried to sound nonchalant, she watched him warily. "Do you…" she swallowed and straightened, as if asking a question that she feared would hurt him. "Do you remember Amaurot?"

At that word, the bottom dropped out of his stomach. 

_He saw a sprawling city, all lit up at night, the buildings themselves reflections of the stars above. He ran after her, down the main thoroughfare, ignoring everything else as he cried out to her, "Wait!"_

_She paused, and looked over her shoulder, then turned to face him properly._

_"Please," he panted, catching up to her. "You must reconsider. I know you don't agree, but Amaurot -"_

_"Don't you understand?" her voice was harsh, despairing. Then another voice joined hers, a whisper, the same words spoken by a man in a white robe at another time. "Amaurot is lost."_

"Only fragments," he confessed, wiping away tears. "Sometimes I get… pieces. I saw you, fighting that man -"

"Elidibus," she interjected.

"- Elidibus," he conceded. "I remembered you, an urge to protect you - to save you - above all others. So I did. Then I left to find answers but I couldn't stay away. I remember things when I'm near you. I tried to find a vessel sooner, but no one on the first fit other than that damn shoebill and -"

"Wait," (Y/N)'s eyes went wide. "You _were_ His Radiance? I suspected, but -" She buried her face in her hands and blushed. "Oh, Twelve, the number of times I changed in front of -"

"I appreciated the view. I remember wanting it, before whatever happened. Sometimes I see visions of you and remember things. My desire for you was one of the earliest I got back - you were standing in a forest, surrounded by blue flowers, holding up a lantern. You looked like you had been weeping, and I had this all-consuming desire to pull you into my arms, somewhere dark and quiet, and uh…" he glanced askance, "... comfort you."

"Is that what we're calling it now?" 

"Well," he said, spreading his hands as he shrugged, "I had thought you would prefer a euphemism to the naked truth that I harbor a deep desire to touch every inch of your skin, especially those you -"

The door to her bedroom burst open, and an Elezen boy with dark hair rushed in, sword clumsily at the ready. "Worry not, old girl! I've come to save you!"

Solus's first, instinctive reaction was to reach out and unmake the boy for his many crimes: interrupting them; having an unsheathed weapon in _her_ presence; thinking he stood a chance against either of them in a fight; and worst of all, daring to imply that he might come between them. The only thing that stayed his hand was (Y/N)'s laughter.

"Emmanellain, _really,"_ she said, crossing to the boy. "If he meant me any harm I'd be long dead already. What took you so long?"

"Well, first I went to see if any of the knights of the house were coming to save you, but they all said that -"

 _"Leave us,"_ Solus said, glaring at this Emmanellain. "The lady and I were having a discussion."

"Oh, right, sorry, just a quick question, friend - _what are you doing in my Twelve-forsaken house?"_

He said nothing, just raised his hand to strike the boy, but (Y/N) darted between them, putting her arms out. "No. Don't harm him."

Solus sneered and looked at Emmanellain over her head. "Her intercession is the only thing that saves you today, boy. I suggest you remember that, and be grateful." The woman sighed heavily, but he ignored it. "You're dismissed."

The boy sputtered then stumbled away, but (Y/N) glared. "Do you have to be such an ass to my friends?"

"If they attempt to come between us? Yes." He was unsure which part of this she was having trouble with.

"First of all, Emmanellain is basically my little brother, not happening. Second of all, I wasn't aware that there is an 'us' for him to come between." She put her hands on her hips and glared up at him.

"That is the nature of the bargain I have come to make," he said, and straightened to his full height to stare down at her. "You will help me recover my memories, and in return I will provide you all the companionship you require." The corner of Solus's mouth lifted in a smirk. _"Comfortable_ or otherwise."

"Absolutely not." (Y/N)'s reflexive rejection made his smirk vanish. "My friends would never let me hear the end of it."

"Then I will tell them such comments are no longer permitted." He shrugged. "I will remove any obstacles to our relationship - living, dead, inanimate; even the conceptual. You are, and will remain, mine."

"You speak as if it has already been decided," she said, lifting her chin. "What if I do not want you?"

"Say it, then," Solus replied, leaning down to catch her chin on the tips of two fingers. "Tell me you do not yearn for me. Scold me for the license I take. Lie to me and say your heart isn't hammering in your chest at the thought of submitting yourself to this one monumental truth - the Warrior of Light belongs, body and soul, to me. Solus. The one known as Emet-Selch."

(Y/N) looked away, towards the far wall, but he smiled with triumphant glee at the blush that crept up her neck. "I'm waiting, my dear," he murmured, brushing his lips over her hair. "Deny me, and I will find some other way to restore my memory. I will never trouble you again."

"I didn't say you couldn't trouble me!" she interjected. "I just…" He placed a gloved finger gently over her lips, and her voice faded to silence.

"Yes or no," he said. "This is an all-or-nothing bargain. I have no intention of torturing myself with only having part; you are mine or you are not - I will have an answer from you."

"You don't remember the things that have passed between us," she whispered against his finger. "The horrible things you have done."

"Maybe not," he agreed, "but I remember I wanted you, and I recognize that I still do."

"You tried to kill me," (Y/N) argued. "You kidnapped my _friend,_ you have caused Calamities in pursuit of your Great Rejoining -"

_"- time immemorial, you and yours have labored to rejoin the thirteen shards, at the cost of countless lives," an elezen boy said, his voice thick with incredulity. "Do you expect us to believe your objective has suddenly changed?"_

_"Nay, our objective is the same as it ever was," Emet-Selch replied, tearing his gaze away from his woman - for even then, even in that moment, he acknowledged her as his - to fix on the boy. "Though I daresay you do not know our motive. A war waged without knowledge of the enemy is no war - it is mere bloodletting."_

"- that have resulted in the deaths of whole worlds." It seemed she was still speaking. "And you never even apologized for -"

"Open your mouth."

(Y/N)'s eyes widened and the softly spoken command, but she did as he bid, licking her lips anxiously before she parted them. Solus smiled and dipped his head, kissing her gently with just the tip of his tongue slipping past her parted lips to taste her before he pulled back. "There are no apologies between us, my dear. Such amends as we would make to each other don't require words."

"I…" The rest of her sentence was lost when she grabbed the front of his coat and pulled him down to kiss her again. He was content to let her, and nudged her gently until her back was against the door. (Y/N) released him, both with her hands and lips, and met his gaze with half-lidded eyes. "I have to go."

Then she swung the door open with her weight against it and bolted.

* * *

The Warrior of Light's feet hit the ground in Mor Dhona and she ran into the Rising Stones, past the patrons in the lobby and hung a hard left into Dawn's Respite. Her sense of urgency must have caught attention, because Alphinaud and Alisaie both jumped from their seats and followed her, G'raha Tia hot on their heels.

"What's all this?" Y'shtola asked, looking up from her work at her friend. 

Bending over to put her hands on her knees as she panted - more from shock than exertion - (Y/N) said, "It's Emet-Selch. He's back."

Thancred rocked into a sitting position on the bed where he'd been relaxing. "What? But I was relatively sure you killed him."

"So was _I!"_ she said, a bit hysterically. "But he -" Closing her eyes, the woman took two or three deep breaths. "He saved me in my fight with Elidibus. I had thought it was just a ghost, or some echo of him, but apparently not. He's been- he's been following me, watching me. I befriended this… shoebill on the First, and he'd been possessing it the whole time! Then I woke up this morning and he was there in my bed and he kissed me and -"

Y'shtola's face twisted into a teasing grin. "Are you sure you weren't just having a _very_ nice dream?"

"Dream?" G'raha Tia asked anxiously.

Thancred chuckled. "It's not as if your attraction to our adversary went unnoticed."

 _"Attraction?"_ the red-headed Miqo'te said, his eyes widening.

"Thy time was spent in the Tower, my friend," Urianger said to him, "So thou wert not privy to the way our dear friend and the Ascian seemed to orbit each other."

"The sexual tension was so thick you could cut it with a spoon," Alisaie added.

 _"Thank you,_ Alisaie," Alphinaud said, closing his eyes and exhaling sharply through his nose. "We were trying to be more circumspect in our descriptions than that."

"Regardless," Y'shtola interjected, "What makes you think it was anything more than a fanciful conjuring of your mind?"

"I will attest to the reality of the events," Emet-Selch offered.

Thancred scowled. "Thanks, but we're not in the habit of listening to -" he cut himself off with a strangled noise and whirled to face him.

"It took you all long enough to notice I was here," he said, ignoring the Scions shock as he strode towards (Y/N). "You're welcome to tell them about my situation, if you like. And our bargain, unless you think yourself strong enough to lie to me."

She looked away, her cheeks heating, as Alphinaud asked, "What bargain?"

"The Warrior of Light will help with restoring my memories, and she will belong to me." As if to emphasize his words, the Ascian put his arms around her.

The implication made Alphinaud and Alisaie blush deeply, but G'raha Tia put his hands on his hips. "All I am hearing is what _you're_ getting. What does _she_ get out of this bargain?"

He met the Miqo'te's angry gaze and tightened his grip on the woman. This one might be trouble - for Solus could see the man understood (Y/N)'s true value and would not quietly accept her belonging to another. Still, the question deserved an answer, and she needed further convincing. "The lady will have everything her heart desires, if it is within my power to provide."

"You know I'm standing right here," she snapped.

"Yes," Emet-Selch agreed. "You are. Right _here,_ in my arms where you belong." The Warrior of light flushed in response, her eyes dropping to the ground.

"Bloody hell," Thancred said, glancing at Urianger. "I can't tell whether I should be furious or start taking notes."

"Isn't anyone going to _do_ something?" G'raha Tia said. "We can't just let him -"

"And what, pray tell, do you propose we do?" Y'shtola asked. "She slew him once before, or near enough that he certainly felt it -"

_The woman was standing in front of him, crying, as the sun rose over the ruins of their home. He wished he could comfort her, that he could tell her everything she had meant to him, but all he could do was make one last demand: "Remember us."_

"-yet she makes no move to strike him down again." The blind woman was still speaking as he blinked away tears. "I am not so foolish as to think I can interfere in their dance, and I trust our dear friend enough to know that if he posed an actual threat, she'd have a weapon in her hand."

"Is that so?" Emet-Selch asked. "Have we been dancing, she and I?"

"In a manner of speaking," Urianger admitted. "From my understanding of events, thou hast a history with Lady (L/N), but as you both have been working at cross-purposes there was never time."

"Well, there are no cross-purposes now. I am content to concede the lady her victory, as I have more important goals - namely, the recovery of my memories and helping her adjust to our relationship." 

(Y/N) dug her fingernails into his arm. "Please stop talking about me like I am not here."

"As if I will allow other men to speak to you so brazenly," he chided.

"They're my _friends,"_ she emphasized.

"Then they are welcome to seek out my permission to speak to you, or you may ask on their behalf. I'm not unreasonable." Emet-Selch smiled beatifically.

"Will you _please_ allow my fellow Scions and members of my family, adopted or otherwise, to speak with me without a song and dance of asking for permission?" (Y/N)'s voice was filled with exasperation, but internally he celebrated his victory - she was accepting the condition that strange men weren't permitted to speak to her, which had been his true goal from the outset.

"Very well, but if any of them attempt to seduce you that permission will be rescinded."

Thancred laughed. "Don't worry, old man, she thoroughly rejected me years ago."

* * *

(Y/N) entered the main hall of Fortemps manor and slumped onto one of the provided settees near a fire. Her entrance caught the attention of an older man who dismissed the servant he was speaking to and made his way over. "Emmanellain told me the strangest thing this morning," he said without preamble. "That you had some man in your room and -"

Solus unwound the magic that shielded him from mortal eyes and glowered at him, making him take a step back and nearly stumble over his own cane.

She instantly leapt into action, catching the older man's arms and helping him stand. "Edmont, are you -"

"That is the Emperor," Edmont hissed. "(Y/N), it's -"

"I know," she said quietly, then dusted herself off and turned towards the Ascian. "Let me perform proper introductions. Emet-Selch, this is my adoptive father, Lord Edmont de Fortemps, the retired count of House Fortemps. His eldest son, Artoirel, now serves as count." She turned back to the older man and put a steadying hand on his arm. "Edmont, this is his Imperial Radiance, Emperor Solus zos Galvus of Garlemald; though I suspect _retired_ Emperor may be more apt," she mused. "He is also known as Emet-Selch, the Architect; he is one of the Ascians."

"An _Ascian?"_ he said, unable to hide the horror from his tone. "But they're your sworn enemies! They have -"

"Edmont," she said softly. "A lot happened on my latest adventure, that I am still reeling from, and am not yet ready to talk about. I came back here because I needed space to think about it and process it quietly. As for Emet-Selch, well, there's no getting rid of him, but…"

(Y/N) looked over her shoulder at him. "You said you will give me anything I ask?"

"If I can make it so, it will be," Solus swore, placing one hand on his chest and giving her a half-bow.

"Then you will not harm or threaten any member of this household, from Edmont himself down to the lowest-ranked servant. You will be kind and agreeable and avoid causing undue trouble for them if you wish to remain here with me."

"As you command, my dear," he said before he straightened and offered his hand to this Lord Edmont. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

The old man reached out and took his hand, shaking it once, still staring in shock before he said to (Y/N), "And the founding Emperor of Garlemald is leashed, just like that?"

The Warrior of Light glanced down at her hands, the barest hint of pink on her cheekbones, and said, "Just like that."


	3. Twelve Help Me [EX]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Y/N) takes Emet-Selch to get some less conspicuous clothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen, i needed this smut to start my weekend off right.

"You know, you didn't have to come with me," (Y/N) grumbled as she strode through the bustling marketplace she called the "Jeweled Crozier."

Emet-Selch shook his head. "Yes I did. Someone might be rude to you, or _stare,"_ he said pointedly, glaring at a man in a nearby stall whose gaze seemed to linger overlong on the woman.

"I'm the Warrior of Light. My friends and I ended the Dragonsong War. They're going to stare." She gave him a dirty look over her shoulder before pushing open the door to a shop filled with bolts of fabric. 

In the back an elderly gentleman fixed his glasses. "Can I help you?" he asked curtly.

The Ascian gritted his teeth, but (Y/N) placed a hand on his arm as if in warning. "You are the tailor who serves Lord de Fortemps?"

"I am," the tailor replied with much more generosity than his initial greeting had held. He slipped off his stool and approached, then jumped back in surprise as he got closer. "Oh, forgive my impertinence, Lady (L/N). I didn't realize it was you. How can I be of service?"

(Y/N) smiled. "My friend here needs new clothes. He's a refugee from Garlemald, and his manner of dress is a bit conspicuous. Lord Edmont recommended you for helping with the issue."

"Yes, I normally make house calls for his lordship, though."

"That is what I had been planning to request, but _someone_ wanted to walk around the city, despite my protests." She shot Emet-Selch a dirty look, as if he were the one who had been rude.

"The lady does not go anywhere unescorted," he interjected. "I will not trust her safety to lesser men."

The tailor laughed. "I take it you do not get much news of the Savior of Ishgard in Garlemald? I pity the man who might try to take advantage of her ladyship."

"You will have to excuse him. Perhaps we could kill two birds with one stone, and you could take his measurements now and deliver the clothing to Fortemps Manor once it's finished?" 

The old man nodded. "Of course, of course. Right this way, young man."

Emet-Selch turned to her, but she cut him off. "Don't get in a twist. I'll wait here for you, then we'll go back to the manor. It's been a busy day and I'm exhausted."

"Good," was all he said, and he turned to follow the tailor.

* * *

As the man was at last tucking away his measuring tape, Emet-Selch heard the bell on the door chime, and two voices began speaking almost instantly - one masculine, one feminine. A moment later, the woman's voice joined them, and her tone spoke of easy friendship. 

It was the man's flirtatious chuckle that had him stalking out of the back, still pulling on his jacket. In the front room he found a tall Elezen, painfully beautiful even for a race that tended towards beauty, leaning close to (Y/N).

"I had noticed the city had taken on a breath of new life, my friend. I should have realized it was a herald of your return," the man was saying. "Forgive me for not having called upon you sooner."

By his side, a woman with short cropped blonde hair was rolling her eyes, but she froze on catching sight of him. In an instant her stance went from ease to the practiced lines of a fighting form as her sword cleared it's scabbard. "What trickery is -"

"Oh, damn it all, Lucia, I forgot you were Garlean," (Y/N) reached out. "He's with me. He's -"

"- a clone," he answered, staring down the length of the Garlean woman's blade. "Not that I would expect you to understand."

"I see your adventures still have you collecting the strangest companions, my lady." The Elezen reached toward (Y/N).

"You will not touch her," Emet-Selch barked, and his opponent's hand froze inches from her shoulder.

"A …clone?" Lucia asked while the Elezen man raised a curious eyebrow toward Emet-Selch's companion. 

"It is Allagan technology, from what I remember of my time with Doga and Unei," the Warrior of Light said, and her gaze locked on the Ascian. With deliberate care, she said, "Aymeric, did you bring your sword?"

The man - Aymeric, presumably - stiffened. "Yes."

"Do you mind if I test something?" Her expression turned from inquisitive to impish, and the other woman, Lucia, pulled her shield free of it's straps in the back. "Emet-Selch," she said in an almost sing-song tone. "You are not to harm this shop, the wares, or anyone inside it. 

So that was her game; she was going to test him. He schooled his expression to stillness though his eyes tracked her fingers as they slipped around the other man's hand. It took him a moment to realize the displeased noise was coming from his own throat, so he licked his lips and said, "My dear, I would prefer if you did not touch other men, nor let them touch you."

The Elezen chuckled and licked his lips. "(Y/N), you must know that I've held you in high regard for some time. Surely you haven't taken this Garlean as your lover."

"She has." His voice was tight, and harsh with the strain of not crossing the room to tear her from her hand from his.

"Not yet," (Y/N) countered, and brought Aymeric's fingers to her lips.

He did not argue, or yell, or get violent. It was obvious those things would displease her, and he wished only to make sure this boundary was crystal clear. Lifting one hand into the air, he snapped, and she vanished from the assembled company. Then he teleported himself through the shadows to the place he had sent her - her bedroom in the old man's house. 

She was already focusing her aether to teleport, but he picked her up over one shoulder and carried her to the bed. "Did you really think I was going to allow that?" he sneered, then tossed her onto the bed. "I thought I made myself perfectly clear."

"I'm not yours yet, asshole," she swore and the furious fire in her eyes burned all other thoughts to ash and left him hungry for her.

"Then we'll fix that," he snapped, shrugging off his jacket. "Right now."

"What!?" Her voice echoed with incredulity as her face went pale. "You can't mean to -"

"Oh yes, I mean to." The sash hit the ground next, followed quickly by his robes. "You claimed I was not yet your lover; that is an oversight I intend to rectify with some haste."

"You wouldn't dare," (Y/N) hissed, but he noted she did not move from the bed.

"I will dare anything I deem necessary to ensure you belong to me and _no one_ else." Emet-Selch loosened his ornamental collar and started on the buttons of his shirt. "You can undress yourself, or I will strip you when I'm finished - lady's choice."

"I'm serious!" she interjected.

"So am I."

"No," she shook her head, "What I mean is: I don't want you to do this when you don't remember all the reasons why you didn't before."

"The reasons I remember are irrelevant now. I remember we quarrelled in a city made of starlight. I remember we quarrelled in a world made of sunlight. I remember standing in the ruins, and knowing I didn't have time to tell you anything I wanted to, save commanding you to remember." His shirt hit the floor and left him wearing only his undergarments, which she studiously avoided looking at despite the way her cheeks and ears were painfully red. "And through it all, I remember longing to have you. As I told your friends - I am content to concede victory to you, especially if it means I can have you at last."

Emet-Selch knelt on the bed between her legs and reached out, brushing his knuckle along her cheek to brush her hair out of her eye. "I was relatively certain, given the way you looked at me, both then and now, that you want this too. Do you?"

(Y/N) met his eyes at last, biting her lip before she replied, "Maybe it can be said that I don't remember everything either." In her hands she clutched an orange crystal, with a strange symbol glowing on its face.

_"-and make sure you give her the crystals; it is the only way either of us will remember." he said to the hooded figure. "Zodiark, Hythlodaeus, are you listening to me? If Azem triumphs it is vital that she has both -"_

He blinked away the memory. "Then that evens the odds. Did you want me, before?"

"Yes," she said, unable to keep the word locked behind her anxiety.

With infinite tenderness, he took the crystal from her hands and set it on the bedside table. "And do you want me now?"

"Twelve help me," she murmured - half prayer, half curse, "I do."

Leaning closer, he brushed the tip of his nose over her cheek as he brought his lips a hair's breadth from hers. "Don't you think we've both fought this long enough, my dear?"

The Warrior of Light let out a strangled little whimper that made him feel far more victorious than anything he'd conceded to her could have before she leaned into him, sealing their bargain with a kiss of her own free will. Emet-Selch chased after her, refusing to let her pull away as his hands found the clasps keeping her robe closed and released them, one by one. The garment slid easily off her shoulders, and beneath his fingers he could feel the chill air of this wintry place raising goosebumps on her skin.

"I'm cold," she complained when they parted, but it did not stop her arms from winding their way around his neck. 

Emet-Selch chuckled and pushed the robe past her hips. "Maybe you should have undressed yourself, then, and gotten beneath the blankets before I got to you."

Her body thus revealed before him, he moved his lips to her neck and she laughed. "Maybe you'll conjure a blanket to keep me warm."

"I only take care of what's _mine,_ (Y/N)," he chided. "If you but admit that you belong to me, then I will give you whatever you ask."

"And if I ask you to leave?"

His lips traced her collarbone as he said, "You won't be any less mine when I'm not here. I cannot bear anything less than an all-or-nothing exchange."

The anxiety he'd suspected came into her voice. "What about you? Will you belong to me the same way?"

"Foolish woman, I already do," he said before he took her nipple into his mouth.

(Y/N)'s fingers threaded into his hair as she arched her back, pressing herself against his chest as a new name, one he had not heard anyone utter before, slipped past her lips.

"Hades."

_"Hades!"_

_He turned, irritation welling up as Azem threw her arms around him. "I just heard from Raphael! You've joined the Convocation!"_

_"Emet-Selch," he corrected her, though it was hard to stay displeased where she was concerned. "And shouldn't you rightly call him Hythlodaeus?"_

_"Like I will call my big brother anything but his name," she laughed, the crinkle of her nose hidden behind the black mask of her station. "But come, you must tell me all about your -"_

Her hands were travelling down his back, pulling his mind back to the present, and to the realization that the name she had just called was his _true_ name, a sign of acceptance, and the history of their intimacy. He leaned back up to her face and kissed her again, snaking one arm around her waist. "Such a troublesome woman I have taken for my own," he teased.

"You haven't taken me yet," (Y/N) countered, every syllable a dare.

Emet-Selch laughed darkly and caught her mouth again while he wriggled out of his underthings until they were naked together, a twisted up pile of arms and legs and laughter. His hands explored her body, eager to touch all of her, marking every place that made her sigh with a kiss. 

The flush in her cheeks spread to the rest of her skin, but he took his time, learning every inch of her body until her touches turned to tugs and the noises her through moved from inaudible to insistent to insensate. It was only when she was little more than a mewling mess, her anxieties over their union forgotten in her desire, that he hooked her legs over his hips and slid inside her. 

_Her sharp gasp cut the silent air of the Convocation chambers as she settled onto his cock in his lap, both their masks forgotten on the table. She had taken the seat of Azem, which meant she was only ever home for short stints, and he was Emet-Selch, which meant he usually remained in Amaurot. But every time she returned they joined like this, making all their vows with kiss and thrust rather than words._

"My love," he groaned into her ear before he straightened up and pulled her dominant hand from his shoulder. After placing a gentle kiss on the tip of each finger, he lowered her hand to the place where they came together. "Pleasure yourself while I'm inside you," he begged. "I want to learn how best to please you."

(Y/N) turned her face away but he released her hand and turned her back to look at him. "You don't need to hide yourself from me, my dear. You're mine."

He didn't realize it was possible for her to blush any deeper, but as her fingers found her clitoris her cheeks were near vermillion in their intensity. The first time she gasped out he began to move inside her, holding her hips in place while he sought his own pleasure in time with hers.

"Hades," she whimpered, "More, please, I need more."

"Far be it from me to deny you anything," her purred and moved faster, his eyes locked on the way his cock disappeared into her body, sliding back out slick with her arousal right beside the tiny bud her fingers continued to toy with. The sight was maddening to the point he felt his own control slipping. 

He felt her tremble a few short breaths before her entire body tensed around him, and his gaze snapped to her face as she arched off the bed and cried his name. (Y/N) was the most beautiful, he found, in those moments when she drifted down from ecstasy, her hair plastered to her skin with sweat and her eyes half-lidded and wholly feral for want of him. He did not fight when she pulled him down to her for a kiss, nor when her legs wrapped around his waist to hold herself on him while she writhed. Just as he did not fight when his own body submitted to hers and he climaxed in her arms, rolling his hips against her thighs again and again as if by thrusting hard enough he could find a way to tie them together permanently by more than just their will.

At last he collapsed on top of her, pressing kisses into her cheek and neck while she veritably purred. "I knew I loved you," he whispered. "I still do."

"I love you, too," she murmured, clinging to him. "Twelve, we should have done that ages ago."

"We did," he said, conjuring the blanket (Y/N) had requested with a snap as he slid out of her. He wrapped it quickly around them both the moment they found a comfortable position, curled together with her head on his chest. "In that place. Amaurot. We were lovers, but not able to be together. I don't quite understand why not."

"From what I understand, I was Azem, the Traveller. My work would have taken me far from you, all the time." Her smile faded. "I suppose that hasn't really changed."

Hades brushed his fingers through her hair. "The difference now is that I have no reason to remain in one place. If your work demands you travel then I will follow you." he chuckled. "You belong to me. I will keep you safe, and aid you as I can - and one day I will remember everything."

"What happens then?" she asked anxiously.

"I have no idea," Emet-Selch murmured into her hair, enjoying the deep contentment that had settled into his soul, tugging him toward unconsciousness.

(Y/N)'s voice stilled, and she turned as if to go, but he clutched her tighter. "No, you don't. We're having a victory nap."

"Isn't it a victory lap?"

"Is anyone going to tell us we're wrong?" He rolled them both onto their sides and curled one arm and one leg around her to keep her from leaving. "You're mine to love, mine to take care of, and you have had a busy day. A nice nap before supper will do us both some good."

She sighed and let her head rest against his chest, drawing up her knees to tangle with his legs a little more tightly. "Hades…" she began. He liked hearing her call him that. "Why are you so possessive and overprotective? Before, you seemed to have little care with regards to sending me to my death."

The answer was on his tongue in an instant, though he did not know what it meant, exactly. "You are the only one left."

"But I'm the one who made things that way," she whispered. "Thordan killed Lahabrea, and I killed the rest."

_"- marks the end of Lahabrea," Elidibus said, his voice distantly sad. How the man could be so callous as to the death of one of the Unsundered, he could never know, but it infuriated him that the Emissary seemed to blame the mortals for it._

_"It was his own damned fault," Emet-Selch countered. "They've been rejoined seven times now! They're more than half of themselves. They're getting smarter, and so must -"_

"Do you know their names?" he asked quietly. 

"Not their names," (Y/N) replied. "Only their titles."

"Will you tell me all the same?"

The woman shifted in his arms, but he felt her nod against his skin. "First was Nabriales, who kidnapped my friend, Minfilia."

_\- rolled his eyes from his spot in his bed while the Emissary leaned against the wall, waiting for an answer. "I don't know what you expect me to do about it in this state," he said. "Besides, it's been not even six years since the last Calamity, of course they're still on edge."_

_"Aren't you at all worried that one of them managed to slay -"_

_Emperor Solus cut him off. "My one demand has not changed. No one is to trifle with Azem, and if you do, you answer to me."_

_"She_ abandoned _us!" Lahabrea argued, shooting up from his seat at the secretary's desk. "She walked out on Amaurot when we needed her most!"_

"Then Igeyorhm."

_"I wouldn't listen to Lahabrea if I were you," Emet-Selch said, staring down his fellow Ascian. Sundered though she was, she had always been quite earnest in her attempts to return their home._

_"I failed, with the Thirteenth," she said. "I have to make amends for that failure."_

_"Then you can do so on another shard," he snapped. "I thought I made myself clear about approaching Azem."_

_"It's not like you lose her forever, she'll be reincarnated," Igeyorhm replied._

_"Which is the only reason I don't end you for daring to consider it. I will forgive her for your death, but not you for -"_

"Then… well, I thought I'd killed you."

_The fury of an eternity, so close and yet so far, welled up inside him. Not at her for what she'd done, but at circumstance for pitting them as enemies. Maybe Igeyorhm had been right. Maybe it was better if she were reincarnated. Once the Rejoinings were done, he would have her back._

_"I… will… not… yield."_

Hot tears against his skin pulled him from the memory and he brushed them away with his thumb. "I loved you then, you know."

"I know. I didn't realize it until later, until I spoke with Hythlodaeus again, but I know now."

"Do you think I will stop loving you, when I get back the memories I had then?" he said. "If I, whole and complete with the weight of all that happened, still wanted to be with you and love you?"

"I have slain Elidibus," she replied. "I am the reason you are alone."

"No," he shook his head. "That doesn't sound right. I don't remember why, but that isn't correct." Hades grumbled into her hair. "It's frustrating not knowing, but there's nothing to be done for it right now." 

"I guess you're right," she said. "Maybe a nap wouldn't be so bad."

"Told you," he whispered and pulled the blanket he had made tighter around them both. 

The silence in the room deepened as her breathing became even and she started slipping towards sleep, but he couldn't rest, not without one last bit of reassurance. "You belong to me," he declared to the empty air.

"I do," (Y/N) agreed. "And you belong to me."

He nodded. "I always have."

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this fic and would like to know more of what's going on with me and my writing, you can check out my twitter: [@amandaterasu](https://www.twitter.com/amandaterasu/)!
> 
> If you liked this fic and would like to read other great fics, I recommend you join the [Emet-Selch's Wholesomely Debauched and Enabling Bookclub](https://discord.gg/vff9YsH) discord.
> 
> If you want to hang out with me and my friends, we have our own discord where we chill out: [The Majestic Imperial Theater Company](https://discord.gg/eXUfUXG)!


End file.
